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The Rosemary Tree
I am sorry I planted the rosemary tree
In the cool of the garden shade.
Its faint pearl fragrance leaves me a little afraid.
"Rosemary, that’s for remembrance. Remember me."
Ah, I would be more than a ghost
To your memory yet, for a little . . . more than a shadow.
One hour I’d ask, one soft-skyed hour at the most,
Where creamy clover and buttercups broider the meadow.
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